After the Fall
by Binks95
Summary: Waiting for the right moment to reammerge, Sherlock takes the life of a recluse. However, he soon finds company in someone new and, ultimately, unexpected.


Even in London, summer afternoons were satisfyingly warm. In the park, where the sun glittered against the trees and illuminated every blade of grass, people walked, hand in hand, side by side or simply with their music. They all looked dazzlingly bright in their summer clothes but, amongst them, there was a single black sheep, alone on the park bench.  
A man sat with his head bowed, the hood of his black hooded jumper covering almost half of his face and his hands were delved inside his pockets. One could tell just by looking at him that he was very tall, very skinny and quite handsome. However, no one would be able to comprehend the amazing mind that lay beneath his bleach blond hair. He stood out amongst the rest of civilisation although it was obvious this wasn't his intention. As people passed they may have given him a single glance but otherwise nobody really paid him any heed. They just assumed he was odd, strange and probably a bit bizarre... and, well, they'd be right.  
Sherlock Holmes stood up, taking a moment to stretch before heading down the concrete path. It was a shame he wasn't able to enjoy the sunshine properly, what with him being dead and all, otherwise people may ask questions-stupid questions.  
At the end of the long stretch of grass was a small patch of shady trees that everybody seemed to have steered clear of. The path forked, veering off into a narrow dirt path through the foliage. Sherlock followed the dirt path, welcoming the cool shade that relieved him slightly of the pent up heat his black hoodie had given him.  
Despite the fact Sherlock was normally-and happily-a solitary person, he couldn't help but crave the attention of someone, _anyone_, that may give him that same uplifting attention a certain friend of his used to provide him with. Without John, Mrs Hudson or even his skull to talk to, Sherlock found life to have lost some of its appeal.  
A rustling in the trees snapped Sherlock away from his train of thought. He stopped, interest piqued, as he heard someone angrily murmuring to them self.  
"Stupid... honestly, why... confounded... false economy..."  
For a moment, Sherlock stared in the direction of the noise but whoever it was seemed to have shut up. He continued further down the path, turning the event over in the back of his mind.  
_Wonder what all that-_  
"OH! Jesus, bloody, Christ!"  
The sudden outburst caused Sherlock to jump ever so slightly. Some manner of cloth and metal poles were thrust down in front of him to the tune of,  
"FINE! Be that way!"  
A girl stomped out from amongst the trees and glared down at the remnants of the cheap tent.  
"I'll just freeze to death tonight, shall I?" she screamed at it, unaware of the detective watching her. "I'll just get bitten by millions of mosquitoes shall I?" she knelt down next to it and stabbed a finger in its direction. "You'd better _pray_ it's warm tonight..."  
Sherlock considered trying to get her attention but felt it a lot more interesting to watch the events unfold. The girl rose once again and gave one of the feeble tent poles a thorough kick, grumbling angrily under her breath. Then she stopped, her eyes widening slightly and ever so slowly her head turned to face the accusative gaze of Sherlock Holmes.  
With a nervous laugh, the girl began to gather up the pile at her feet.  
"S-Sorry... about that..." she said, "I'm just... Y'know, I'm just..."  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her, saying nothing. The girl looked at him and for a moment he thought she might have recognised him.  
"Why aren't you talking?" she asked. Suddenly a gasp escaped her throat. "Oh, no! Do you recognise me? Have they already put up the wanted posters? Please, please, please don't turn me in! Please?"  
Sherlock relaxed, however he wasn't too sure what this girl was talking about. He looked down at her as she, quite literally, grovelled at his feet.  
_Well she's... eccentric..._  
"Would you... stop that, please..." Sherlock mumbled. "Stop it... Stop it!"  
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the girl cried, jumping unsteadily to her feet again. "I don't want to go to prison, okay? I was only doing the right thing, I swear!"  
"Look," Sherlock started, holding out his hands to silence her. "I don't associate myself with criminals, okay? I'll pretend I didn't see you."  
"But, I'm not a criminal!" she said, pressing the tips of her fingers against her chest to thoroughly indicate she was definitely referring to herself.  
"Then why all the shouting?"  
"Because, according to the pigs, I'm a criminal," she started. "But I was only doing what was right for freedom and justice!"  
_Oh God..._  
"So you're not a criminal, then?"  
"Well..."  
Sherlock ran a hand over his eyes. This was probably the longest and most pointless conversation he'd ever had.  
"Technically yes... Okay, okay! I am a criminal. But!" Sherlock recoiled slightly at the sudden outburst. "For all the right reasons!"  
There was a pause where the two just stared at each other. Sherlock opened his mouth.  
"How-"  
"Let's not get into technicalities shall we?" the girl interrupted, waving her hand.  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. He looked at her for a moment and his quick mind, set, automatically, to work.  
"Uganda..."  
"Sorry?" said the girl, picking up the beaten remnants of her tent.  
"You've been living in Uganda," Sherlock started. "Well, I say living, more like foraging."  
"What?"  
"For two years at least."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Recently come back home by smuggling yourself on cargo ships thanks to Africa's poor security. Because of your British citizenship, the UK border control couldn't arrest you when you landed back here."  
"How on Earth...?"  
"But then you needed at least a little bit of cash so you mugged someone, almost unsuccessfully, and you are now on the run because you stupidly allowed your victim to get a good look at you."  
The girl stood there in stunned silence, gaping like a fish at Sherlock.  
"How did you know that?"she said. "Are you a _wizard_...?"  
"What? Of course not!" Sherlock said.  
"Then how did you know?" she asked, cocking her head to the side slightly.  
Sherlock paused. He could tell her if he wanted. If he was right about how long she'd been in Uganda and if she had only recently arrived home then she was incredibly unlikely to know who he was. But there was no point taking a risk.  
"...It doesn't matter," he said. "There's somewhere I need to be, so..."  
Sherlock walked around her, his hands delved back inside his pockets.  
"Oh... okay," said the girl. "Well, however you did it, it was very clever. Bloody brilliant, in fact."  
Sherlock stopped, his back to the girl. He smiled slightly.  
"Only one other person has said that to me..." Sherlock mumbled.  
He turned on his heel, his hands clasped behind his back. The girl was still gathering up her dead tent into her arms, mumbling under her breath.  
"What's your name?"  
The girl looked up, feeling slightly, put-on-the-spot.  
"C-Caroline," she blurted. "Caroline Headley."  
Sherlock squinted at her. "Is that your real name?"  
"Nope," said Caroline. "Giving you my real name would be suicide."  
"Of course..." said Sherlock. "I'm willing to offer you a deal, Caroline."  
Caroline's brow furrowed. "Okay...?"  
"I can give you lodging somewhere safe and away from the prying eye of the law..."  
"You can?" she asked in surprise. "In exchange for what?"  
"Company."  
"...Company?"  
"Yes."  
"...Wow. It's, like, the cheapest rent ever."  
"So, are we agreed?" Sherlock asked, holding out his hand.  
"Definitely!" Caroline cried, violently shaking his outreached hand.  
Little did Sherlock know that, that handshake would bring about a new and unexpected friendship.


End file.
